


The Roast of Long John Silver

by atamasco



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Fix-It, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, get rekt johnny, hurt/comfort sort of lol, john silver is getting roasted by thomas hamilton, the things you never knew you needed, treasure island? i dont know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 09:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11056431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamasco/pseuds/atamasco
Summary: Ten years after the end of the war, Flint and Silver meet again. Of course, things do not go smoothly. They need Madi and Thomas to give them a little push into the right direction.





	The Roast of Long John Silver

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to hailey (@youatemytailor) for proofreading this and helping me get past the parts where I got stuck! I could never have finished this without your help!!

They have been drinking a lot of wine. A little bit too much maybe, a little bit _more_ than too much probably, but the occasion called for it. It has taken some of the tension off this weird encounter.

Thomas and James didn’t get many visitors, and these were quite exceptional visitors. It was not every day that Madi and Silver showed up at their doorstep. In fact, they have not seen each other in about ten years. The four of them are sitting around the table, late at night, the room lit by lanterns and candles. The atmosphere between them is just a little giddy, their voices loud from the drink and their movements slow. Thomas directs his attention to Silver.

‘Have you ever heard of the name Socrates, Mister Silver?’

‘No, I don’t think I have.’

‘Socrates was an Ancient Greek philosopher. He saw it as his mission to enlighten people by bringing to the surface ideas that they already had in their minds, but did not yet know consciously. He compared himself to a midwife in that way – assisting in the birth of knowledge. The method he used to do this is what we now call a “Socratic dialogue”.

‘Fascinating’, Silver says flatly.

‘Isn’t it? It’s very simple. One person asks questions that the other person has to answer,’ Thomas says, and takes another sip from his glass.

‘Are you up for a challenge, Mister Silver?’

‘What kind of challenge?’

‘One where I ask you questions and you have to answer them.’

‘You are going to ask me questions’ Silver repeats for clarification.

‘That is correct.’

‘That’s it? What’s the challenging part?’ Silver laughs.

‘The challenging part is that I expect you to answer truthfully’, Thomas says, a wicked smile on his lips.

Silver stares at Thomas with wide eyes. ‘You’re kidding me, are you?’ He gives a nod in James’ direction. ‘What exactly has he told you about me?’

‘Nothing but the truth’, James says, and he thinks he is very funny.

‘Well then, do you accept the challenge?’ Thomas says.

‘Yes, alright’, Silver answers, shifting slightly in his chair. ‘Go on.’

‘Good. Have you ever loved anyone, Mister Silver?’ Thomas asks.

 _Oh, are we going this way,_ James thinks. _I might need another glass of wine for that._

‘Yes, I have’, Silver answers, glancing quickly at Madi.

‘If I may ask, how did you know you loved them?’

‘I thought she was... beautiful, and strong, and smart. I wanted what was best for her.’

‘And what, according to you, was best for her?’

‘What I thought was best for her, was to have a life with her people. And with me, if she wished.’

James looks over at Madi, sitting at the other side of the table, and catches her eye. She looks regal as ever. She seems not to feel the least bit uncomfortable by this strange play that is unfolding in front of them. But then again, she was always good at keeping a straight face.

‘Alright. And what did she herself think was best for her?’ Thomas asks.

Silver opens his mouth to answer but closes it again. He looks Thomas directly in the eye, unblinking, his brows furrowed low over his eyes, casting them in shadow.

 _Nope. Not nearly enough wine._ James should probably tell Thomas to stop, tell him he doesn’t know what he is asking, how deep the wound is that he is prodding into, but he doesn’t. Maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, he wants to let this happen. See how far Silver will play along. See how Thomas guides them all along on a path that no-one knows where it leads, perhaps not even Thomas himself.

‘Perhaps we should ask the lady herself. Miss Madi,’ Thomas says as he turns to her, ‘what did you think was best for you?’

The three men look at her while she weighs her answer. She in turn looks at Silver, in whose eyes James spots a look of desperation.

‘I wanted the same thing’ she says. ‘I wanted to have a life with my people, a peaceful life. And I wanted John to be a part of it. But I knew that the peace we were living in was fragile. When I met Captain Flint, I saw a chance to do something bigger, to have something better. To have not just peace for my people, but freedom.’

‘You would have died’, Silver says. ‘If I hadn’t stepped in, if I hadn’t brought that chest with me you wouldn’t be sitting here now.’

‘Maybe not. But what is a life, when you have to spend it hiding from a nation that wishes to see you in chains? That does not seem like living to me.’

‘All I did was –’

‘We have had this conversation many times, John’, Madi interrupts him. ‘I do not wish to repeat it in front of our hosts.’

‘Forgive me. I did not mean to embarrass you’, Thomas says.

‘It is all right’, Madi says.

They sit, sipping from their glasses. The flames of the candles bathe the room in a soft, warm light and nervously fluttering shadows.

‘I think love’, Madi says quietly, ‘is about accepting the other person as they are, and supporting them, even if you do not always understand them, or agree with them.’

Thomas hums, rubbing a hand over his chin in thought. ‘What do you think about that, Mister Silver?’

‘I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll tell me regardless.’

‘That is not the point of this exercise, Mister Silver.’

‘Really? You could have fooled me.’

‘Perhaps we should stop’, James says.

‘The way I see it, there are different ways to love’ Thomas says, ignoring James. ‘And as I understand it, you wanted Madi to be happy on _your_ terms.’

‘Are you telling me there is a right and a wrong way?’ Silver says, struggling not to raise his voice. ‘I wanted the same things for her. I wanted her to be happy. Is that not love?’

‘I never said that one or the other was wrong’, Thomas says.

‘I gave them a life free from bloodshed and loss and endless fighting. What is your point exactly? Are you saying that I should have just let them die?’ Silver spits at Thomas.

Unimpressed, Thomas asks, ‘What do you think love is, Mister Silver?’

Silvers hand resting on the table is balled into a fist. ‘I think that love is wanting what is best for the other person.’

‘Yes, I heard that. And if I’m correct I just dismantled that definition.’

‘Then what about you? What do you think?’ Silver asks. ‘What, according to you, is the definition of love?’

It is meant to be a challenge from Silver’s side; it only makes it painfully clear that he doesn’t know his opponent. James does. And that’s how James knows that Silver has just dug his own grave.

‘I believe’, Thomas says, smiling oh so kindly yet so dangerously, ‘that love, in its purest form, is wanting to _give_ while expecting nothing in return.’

Silver huffs a laugh. ‘I am sure you would like to believe that, but no-one is really so selfless.’

Thomas quickly looks over at James then, and James sees the dark glint in his eyes that makes his heartrate increase with anticipation. Thomas is driving them forward and there is no turning back now.

‘James has told me some things about you, Mister Silver. How your first introduction was preceded by you stealing an important schedule from him; how you betrayed him by stealing five million Spanish dollars from right under his nose; how, in the end, you took him away from a war against England that he had spent ten years building. It may not be so to you, Mister Silver, but to me it is painfully clear that while you kept on taking and taking from James, he only continued to _give_ ; his trust, his loyalty, his story, all of him, to you.’

‘Now wait a minute, I–’ Silver tries.

‘So’, Thomas continues, ‘while you may not be able to love like this yourself, there are certainly people in his world who _can_ love selflessly, and I may even say self- _destructively_.’

Silence stretches through the room. James holds his breath. He sees the look on Silver’s face and for a moment he thinks he is about to witness it, he is going to get to know what it looks like; Silver mercilessly bashing a man’s head in, not with an iron leg but with a crutch this time, or maybe even his bare fists. Adrenaline shoots through James’ veins, preparing him to react to any sudden movement.

Silver looks down when he speaks again, avoiding the eyes of the other people at the table. ‘You assume’, he says in a low voice, soft like a whisper, ‘that love is ever pure. But in my experience, it isn’t. It stings and it bites. It makes everything more difficult than it should be. It makes a right choice seem wrong. It makes important things seem trivial. And when it ends, it leaves you hollow, and changed.’

Thomas smiles gently at him. ‘Is that not the realest, purest form of love? The one that touches you at your very core?’

‘If it is, I don’t think anyone should ever want to love.’

‘Was that all you felt then? Only hurt and sorrow?’

‘Of course not’ Silver says, and he clenches his jaw. ‘That is the whole point. The happier you are, the more it hurts when the source of your happiness is taken from you.’

‘You knew it would hurt, and still you chose to risk your relationships with Madi and James. You knew you were happy with them, and still you sent them away. Can you tell me why that is?’

Silver looks up then. His eyes shine wetly in the dim light.

‘I can’t’ he says. He stands up from his chair, grabs his crutch and stalks out the door, slamming it shut on his way out the house.

‘I will go after him’, Madi says, and she gets up.

Thomas shoves his chair back and stands. ‘I cannot let you go out there alone, Miss. Please, let me escort you.’

‘Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. He will not be far before I catch up on him’ she says, smiling faintly, and she leaves.

Thomas and James are alone again.

Thomas is smiling at the closed door. ‘I like them’ he says. ‘Interesting taste in friends you have, James’.

‘What the fuck were you thinking’ James snaps, rising from his chair.

The smile clears off Thomas’ face as it is replaced by a solemn look. ‘I was only trying to help. I know you don’t like to talk about things, you prefer to keep your feelings bottled up because you think that is a healthy way to cope with them. I can see that Mister Silver is similar to you in that regard. All I have done is show you a way to move forward.’

‘What do you mean “move forward”? You made him run off into the dark! That hardly seems like progress to me!’

‘No birth is ever enjoyable or pleasant. I didn’t expect either you or him to thank me for doing this. Socrates didn’t get much praise for his method either.’

‘You’re not bloody Socrates! And you don’t know what you did to Silver. You don’t know him like I do.’

‘To the contrary, James. I know him exactly like you do, because all I know of him is what _you_ told me.’

‘I’m done. I’m going to bed’ James says, stalking towards the bedroom, but Thomas grabs his wrist, forcing him to a stop.

‘James, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

Ever since they have been reunited, James has found it hard to stay mad at Thomas for long. It just seems like a waste of time, after they have already wasted ten years.

So instead he turns around and kisses him.

Thomas lets go of his wrist and laces their fingers together. ‘You didn’t get a chance to enlighten us with your definition of love’, Thomas says in when they break apart.

‘I think', James says, 'that you think too much about what love is instead of just letting yourself feel it, whatever it is.’

They stumble to the bedroom and cover each other in kisses and sweet whisperings. Thomas is undressing in front of him and yes, James is a cynical man, and no, he doesn’t think that God would ever grant him anything, _but if this isn’t a fucking miracle_. To have this moment, to have him, and to be able to tell him ‘I love you.’

* * *

 

They had only arrived the day before, Madi and Silver. Madi had come to their house first. It was a small house just outside the town; close enough for Thomas to engage in the weekly community meetings, remote enough for Thomas and James to not be bothered by anyone.

James had been working outside in their garden when he saw a figure appear at the horizon, walking down the road towards their house. Even from such a distance, even after all those years, he had immediately recognised her; he had known it was her, just by the way she moved.

When she finally stood in front of him, he had embraced her tightly, and then his stomach sank - she had come alone.

‘He is alright’, she said when she saw the look on James’ face. ‘I brought him with me. But he wouldn’t come here until he was sure that he was welcome.’

James tried to supress a snort – wasn’t this just so typical of Silver, even after all those years. Never part of the vanguard, always hiding behind others, always a coward.

They entered the house, sat down together and talked, about the lives they lived then and now. Thomas came home and James introduced him to Madi and he saw the delight on both their faces as they found things they had in common, spoke of subjects they agreed on. When the sun was starting to set, Madi had to go back to the inn where she and Silver were staying. Thomas insisted on escorting her back, James was sure not only out of courtesy but also because, if allowed, they could have continued their conversation till morning. But a walk into town had to do for now.

It also allowed James some time by himself to think about the day’s events and the things Madi had told him. Some years after the end of the war, Madi and Silver had separated. Even though they had remained close friends, Silver had felt out of place at the Maroon camp and left. Madi didn’t know where he went or what he was up to; over time she had received letters from him stating he had been to many places, traveling around, taking on jobs here and there; but an exact idea of what he was doing, she never managed to get.

Then he had returned. And though Silver had never said it to her with so many words, Madi had understood that finding a job was not an easy task for a man with only one and a half leg. So here he was again. He tried to make himself useful in the camp by doing all kinds of tasks; at first, he tried cooking. His cooking shifts however had quickly turned into cooking _lessons_ given to him by the actual cooks, after an incident in which Silver’s dishes had resulted in a very bad case of stomach cramps for the entire camp. At one time, Madi told James, she had seen Silver try to boil an egg by heating it in a pan without any water in it – and that was hardly the worst thing he did. Nowadays Silver spent most of his time teaching the children to write and do sums. Most of his lessons ended up with him telling them wildly inaccurate stories of how he lost his leg and how he sailed with legendary pirate captains. He was loved by the children, and hated by their mothers.

Madi had wanted to visit James soon after they had been forced to part ways, but duties bound her to her home, and then it took some more time to find out where Thomas and James had gone after leaving the plantation. The rumours about a plantation being set ablaze while all the prisoners had fled the scene were widespread, but where the initiators of the revolt had gone – some said it had been a crew of over a hundred pirates, some said it had been evil spirits from another world – no-one could tell them.

Silver had not wanted to come with her at first. He thought it best to leave the past to rest and not look back. But Madi had shown no remorse and dragged him with her. So here they were.

They had told Madi that Silver was welcome. James walked around the house restlessly, clearing the table from plates and cups, pushing the chairs back into their place. Somewhere out there, a less than an hour walk away, was John Silver. The thought of Silver being somewhere so nearby was strange, slightly unnerving. James had always been aware of his position in the world in relation to the elements; land and sea and sky. He had always been the moving object back then. But now, he was the solid element towards which others were moving. He could not imagine himself ever getting used to the passiveness of it.

It was dark outside when the door creaked as it was opened and shut, and Thomas walked into the kitchen.

‘I left her at the inn. She is a captivating young woman’, he says, smiling brightly.

‘She is. You two seemed to have taken an instant liking to each other’, James replies.

Thomas walks over to the other side of the room, where a small table stands against the wall, with a collection of seemingly random objects on it, like a cabinet of curiosities.

A bright green feather they had found on a walk around the area shortly after they had first arrived. Flowers picked at the side of the road. A worn copy of _La Galatea._ A smooth pebble with a deep brown colour. A letter that Thomas had written and James had never read; not because Thomas wouldn’t let him – he had told James he could – but because he felt no need for it. And last, a small white candle they would light occasionally.

‘I miss her’ Thomas says, touching the cover of the book.

James walks up to him and wraps an arm around Thomas’ waist.

‘I wish she could have shared this with us’, Thomas continues.

‘I hope somehow she knows that we have found each other again.’

‘I’m sure she does, wherever she is’, James says.

They stand in silence for a moment.

‘You are alright with this, aren’t you?’ James asks. ‘With them both coming over tomorrow? Because if you’re not I can go to the inn and tell Madi that I’ve changed my mind –’

‘James, I’m alright. I want to get to know these people who have been so important to you. I take comfort in the thought that, even after Miranda had passed, you weren’t alone.’

‘I was…’ James says, thinking back on that time. The aimless rage that he let loose on anyone standing in his way. How hard it was to keep up the image of the tyrannical Captain Flint. The people who helped him carry his burdens. ‘I wasn’t alone’, he concludes.

Thomas looks at him fondly. ‘It is often hard to see truths when they are right under your nose, my love. Distance grants perspective. You should make the most of it tomorrow.’

* * *

 

Some nights, Thomas startles awake with hands clutching at him, arms tightening around him, and James’ damp, shivering body pressed against his back. He turns over to face James.

‘So many times I’ve balanced at the edge of death’, James whispers, ‘so many times I could have died without ever knowing that you were still alive. I could have died and you would never have known that I was out there, that I could have saved you, and you would have wasted away in that place –’

‘James, listen to me,’ Thomas says. He places his hand upon James’ cheek; it is wet with tears. ‘That could have happened, but it didn’t. This is real. I am here with you and I am never leaving you again.’

He talks to James until he stops shivering and his fists uncurl, slowly relaxing and drifting back to sleep. Thomas watches him until sunlight bathes the room in gold.

* * *

 

James has told Thomas about his life as a pirate captain. His life as Captain Flint. The stories did not come all at once, but over the years Thomas has heard plenty of them, enough to have a vivid image in his mind of what James’ life was like back then, and of the things that happened, and of the things he did.

At first, James was hesitant to tell him anything, scared of what Thomas might think of him. Yet, once he started talking he found that he couldn’t stop. James needed to see himself in Thomas’ eyes, needed Thomas’ help to understand himself. With each story that he revealed James would think _this is too much, this is the last drop, this will change the way he feels about me_. But Thomas listened and James would never spot any signs of disgust or repulsion or fear on him. Spilling his heart to Thomas and seeing their bond unchanged by it was like finally reaching the surface and taking deep gulps of air after being held under for way too long.

James told him about Miranda and the cottage. About cannon fire and mutinies, the Spanish gold and the Doldrums. About a Maroon King and Queen, and their daughter. About the schedule that was torn from the log.

About the Spanish man o’ war he managed to take with a bullet in his shoulder. About the whale carcass in the middle of the ocean and hunting the sharks that surrounded it. About how he and his crew were captured by the Maroon Queen and how he had talked her into siding with him in a war against England. About the mist-veiled island on which he had buried a treasure.

It is late at night and they are lying in bed. James is telling stories about a man he had trusted with his life, even though that man hadn’t trusted him in return.

‘He wanted to fight me. He was so blinded by rage and fear when he thought I had betrayed him. Then Dooley came up behind him, with his pistol raised. I didn’t think. I had shot him before I even realised I had pulled my pistol. I couldn’t let him do it. I couldn’t let him kill Silver, even if Silver was going to kill _me_.’

Thomas hears him out, entwines their fingers in between them, on top of the sheets. ‘You loved him’ he says softly. He looks at James but cannot make out his expression in the dark of the room. It hurts him to hear how, after so long, after the grief and the sorrow he had been through, James had found a way to open his heart to someone again, and for that person then to become his end.

The room is quiet. Crickets are softly singing in the bushes surrounding their house. Thomas can almost hear James thinking. He wonders if James has ever considered the possibility himself, of the extend of his feelings for John Silver, or if this is the first time it has been put to words.

‘What does it matter now’, James says finally. ‘He didn’t feel the same about me, anyway.’

‘He tied himself to you. He became the face of a war that had nothing to do with him, but meant everything to you. That must have meant something. Even if he didn’t love you, he must have cared deeply about you.’

James stays silent for so long that Thomas thinks he must have fallen asleep.

‘Did you have anyone, in those years?’ James asks quietly.

Thomas reflects on his years at the plantation. ‘There were hurried touches in the dark, behind locked doors. But I never fell for anyone.’

James remains silent again.

‘I’m not jealous, if that’s what you think’ Thomas says.

‘I told you, there was nothing between me and him. No more than a partnership.’

‘You killed for him and he killed for you. You started a war for me and he ended it for you. That sounds like more than a partnership to me.’

Again, silence. Thomas watches James’ chest rise and fall with each breath as he waits for him to speak.

‘Whatever there was between us, it wasn’t enough.’

‘Not enough for him to allow you to lose yourself in your war?’

‘Not enough for him to keep us together.’

‘He loved you enough to let you go.’

Outside, the wind rustles through the trees. ‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore’, James says finally.

Thomas lets go of James’ hand to pull him closer and wrap his arms around him.

* * *

The morning after Madi’s visit Thomas wakes up to find James’ side of the bed empty. When he walks into the kitchen he finds James sitting at the table.

‘I’ll go into town to get some food and drink for our visitors,’ Thomas says. ‘And I’ll bring some wine, too. I suspect we will need that. Do you think they will want to stay for dinner?’

James doesn’t reply. He seems lost in his thoughts.

Thomas walks up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘Where are you?’ he asks.

James looks him in the eye for the first time that morning, as if he has only just noticed that Thomas is there.

‘Darling, please,’ Thomas says. ‘Let me make you a cup of tea.’

‘Yes, tea would be nice. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine. I can imagine you are nervous to see him again after so long.’

James walks out onto the porch several times that morning to see if Madi is approaching with Silver yet. The wait is killing him. He doesn’t know what to do. He tries to read a book but puts it down again when he realises he has read the same line five times without any of the words processing. Maybe Silver has changed his mind. Maybe, despite all Madi’s efforts, he doesn’t want to see Flint after all. Maybe they are already on their way home again, making James look like a fool who has hoisted himself into a tub in expectation of a flood that isn’t coming.

He walks outside again, and then he sees them, already halfway down the road. From the distance James can make out Silver’s distinctive stepping and hopping on his leg and crutch. His hair bounces up and down with his movements. They approach slowly and all James can do is stand there and wait. He considers going back inside to wait for them, but they have probably already seen him standing there.

It feels like an eternity has passed when they finally come to a halt in front of James.

Madi smiles at him, then looks at Silver. ‘I’ll be inside’, she says.

And then Silver and James meet again for the first time in years. It is strange to meet him on steady ground, in the absence of salted air and the twenty-four-seven stench of pirates surrounding them. _This isn’t real_ , James thinks. _This is all too strange to be real_. He must have died but his conscious hasn’t caught up yet. His body is gone but his mind plays out a story for him of what could have been. When did he die? Did Singleton beat him to death? Did Edward Teach run him through with his sword? Did John Silver fire a bullet into his chest on Skeleton Island?

But he looks into Silver’s eyes and he thinks, _no, I could never have made this up myself._

James clearly remembers the details of Silver’s face. He remembers the blue of his eyes, the curve of his lips, all the lines and hollows and arches. But when he tries to put them together in his mind to see the complete image, they always dissolve. And yet, now that he can see him fully again, he doesn’t understand how he could have forgotten.

Silver looks clean, is the first thing James notices. No cuts or bruises or dirt on him. His hair looks like it has been washed recently. It is also slightly shorter than when Flint last saw him and his beard is trimmed. His skin glows, but maybe that is just from the walk up to the house. Silver is wearing a loose brown shirt with a light coat over it, and dark trousers.

James wonders what Silver thinks of him. He doesn’t look that much like Captain Flint anymore. He has let his hair grow out again so now the length is just over his ears. It’s not the same fiery red it used to be, but a more faded colour, and recently he even found some white hairs in his beard. He has never thought of himself as a particularly vain man, but he did always like to put a bit of an effort into his looks. As a lieutenant, he made sure his sober parentage wasn’t betrayed by his appearance. As a Captain, he understood the importance of looking the part. Now he doesn’t have a title anymore and he doesn’t have to look like anything. Still he found himself bothered by the signs of his aging. That was until Thomas told him how blessed he felt that they were allowed to grow old and grey together.

They stand awkwardly facing each other. One of them should probably say something, James thinks. Should they shake hands? That might seem like a too cold and distant gesture. Where are they supposed to pick up after the last time they saw each other? Maybe the handshake wouldn’t be so bad after all.

James lifts his arm, as a peace offering. And Silver takes the offer, shakes his hand once, and then they stand with their joined hands hanging between them. The insides of their palms lay flat against each other. Silvers hand feels warm and rough and heavy in James’ own.

From the corner of his eye, James notices a blur of green moving towards them and a bird lands on Silver’s shoulders. Its feathers are mostly green, while it has a white forehead and beak and a rosy pink throat. It claps its wings and yells, a god-awful sound that tears through James’ eardrums.

James lets his hand drop. ‘Is that a fucking parrot?’ He never thought those would be the first words he would say to Silver after not having seen him for ten years.

‘As observant as ever, Captain’ Silver says. He digs for something in his coat’s pocket and when he finds it – a seed – he feeds it to the parrot. ‘Flint, meet James McGraw.’

‘What’, James manages.

Silver smiles at him. ‘I named her after you.’

‘ _Her_?’ James grinds his teeth. ‘Is that supposed to be your idea of a joke?’

‘It’s not a joke. It’s deadly serious. Madi was getting tired of me talking to myself so she got it for me.’

Inviting Silver over was a bad idea after all. James wonders if he can still draw back and make Silver leave. Madi can stay if she likes.

Instead of following his impulse to kick Silver off his land, James keeps his temper and invites him inside. The parrot can’t come with him however. James doesn’t allow animals inside the house. So Silver lets the beast fly off again.

When they enter the house, Madi and Thomas are there waiting for them.

‘Mister Silver’ Thomas says, smiling brightly, offering his hand.

Silver takes it. ‘Lord Hamilton’ he says, his posture tense.

‘Oh, please. I am hardly a Lord anymore. “Thomas” is fine.’

It makes James somewhat uncomfortable, though not necessarily in a negative way, to see these two men who have both known him so differently meet each other. It is like a cut being stitched up, two sides of skin being pulled close over a gaping wound. All that is left, is for the tissue to heal.

* * *

The morning after Madi’s and Silver’s visit James wakes up with a headache. _They are probably on their way home by now,_ he thinks. He doesn’t expect them to ever come back. He walks into the kitchen to clean up the mess of last night when he hears the parrot yelling outside.

He walks out the door to find Silver sitting at the edge of the porch, his crutch resting beside him. The parrot sits on his hand and picks at the crumbs that lay in his open palm – that is, when the beast takes a break from making noise for a second. Silver looks tired, like he hasn’t slept all night.

‘Is that what you think too?’ Silver asks, his voice hoarse. He doesn’t look at James.

‘I’m sorry?’ James replies.

‘That I have destroyed you.’

How is he supposed to answer that? Yes, in a way, Silver has destroyed him. He has killed Captain Flint. Yet – James doesn’t know if it is that simple. If it works that way. He doesn’t know if the cut can be made so cleanly. He has come to find that an old skin is not so easy to shed. Some days he doesn’t know if he is James Flint or James McGraw. Maybe he is both. Maybe he is neither.

‘Why did you come here?’ James asks.

‘I had hoped to come here and find someone who looked like my old Captain, but who wasn’t him. I had hoped to find someone I didn’t know, who was living with a man I didn’t know. And I would go back home, knowing that there were two men living a happy and peaceful life together somewhere in a town in Georgia, and that would be it.’

James wants to ask him if he found that, but he is scared for the answer. So instead he says, ‘Come inside.’

Silver lets the parrot fly off and wipes the remaining crumbs from his hand. They walk back into the house, Silver following James. Silver walks up to the table to lean against it. James doesn’t know what he should do. The sink is filled with glasses and plates from last night. He decides to occupy himself with cleaning them.

‘I gave you something,’ Silver says. ‘I gave you Thomas. I returned you to him.’

‘Don’t worry about the things Thomas said last night’ James says. ‘He didn’t mean any harm. He just enjoys these kinds of discussions, and sometimes he gets so caught up in them that he doesn’t notice when he crosses a line.’

‘How did you know?’ Silver asks.

‘Know what?’ James says.

‘That you loved him.’

The night he first told Silver about Thomas he had tried to keep his voice under control and sound calm and casual, while on the inside he was filled with fear, preparing for the worst possible reaction from Silver. And Silver had sat there, at the other side of the fire, and listened, and when James was done speaking, Silver had told him he was sorry.

But to be asked so nakedly about his feelings for Thomas is a whole other thing.

Doing the dishes very conveniently allows James to have his back turned to Silver so he doesn’t have to look at him, which somehow makes it easier to talk. ‘I don’t think there is an exact moment that I can pinpoint, when I just suddenly knew. Did I know, when I first met him, that I would wage a war against nations in his name? No, I did not. I knew that we had an instant…connection, that we understood each other, even though we had such different opinions. Such different views on the world we lived in. But it worked, somehow. He made me see the good in people. He was optimistic, an idealist. He taught me to have hope for something better.’

‘Did you always know? That you could feel this way about another man?’

James wonders where these questions are coming from, and he wonders why, after all they’ve been through, it feels so natural to him to keep giving answers. To explain it to Silver, to help him see the way James sees.

‘I knew that I was different. When I was young I pictured myself having a future with a wife and children, but the image did not please me. I knew that I could not have a normal life. But Thomas and Miranda made me see that I did not need to live the way I had always thought was normal. That there were other possibilities. That I could find my own happiness. They made me feel like there was something good in me. Something worth loving.’

‘Did you ever fear it? Those things you knew you had inside you?’

‘I did. For a long time, I feared it, and pushed it away, tried to ignore it. But that was only because I didn’t know yet that there was nothing to fear. There were no monsters in the dark.’

‘I loved you’, Silver says.

James grabs the edge of the counter to stop himself from falling over because obviously the ground has shifted underneath him. He must have misheard Silvers words. It must be the hangover and the terrible headache he’s having.

‘After you were gone, I was devastated,' Silver continues. 'I didn’t know who I was without you. You left a void I did not know how to fill. I tried to run, find distractions. I drank until the sun rose. I picked fights with men twice my size. Yet nothing seemed to be enough.’

James’ knuckles turn white from the tight grip of his fingers on the cold stone. He closes his eyes. _I’m most definitely dead. This is most definitely a really funny trick of my brain_. He hears the thud and step of a crutch and a boot, and then Silver is standing next to him. James makes it a point to not look at him. His heart beats rapidly in his chest.

‘I didn’t realise it back then, what I was trying to compensate for. I was so blind. It was only after Madi spelled it out for me that I understood’ Silver says, and he laughs. It sounds bitter and hollow. ‘I loved you. I don’t care if you felt the same, or not at all. I don’t expect anything from you. All I need to know, is…’

Silver takes the towel that James was holding from his hands – their skins brush against each other, James cannot tell if it is on purpose or from the trembling of Silver’s hand –, and places the towel down on the counter.

‘…that you won’t forget about me.’

It sounds like a question, a desperate plea that cuts through James’ heart.

‘When we met, I was nobody. I had no home, no family, no dreams. But you made me someone. You made me Long John Silver. I existed, for you. I existed because of you. So, please, remember me.’

James swallows down the lump that has formed in his throat. ‘You really think I could forget you?’ he asks.

‘Perhaps you should.’

The sun has risen above the treeline at last. Beams of pale light enter through the kitchen window. It reminds James of the way the light entered his cabin on the Walrus, reflected off the sea’s surface.

‘I could never forget you. After all the things we did. The things we accomplished together. The things we survived. I couldn’t, not even if I wanted to.’

‘Did you? Want to forget, I mean?’

James carefully loosens his grip on the counter, still scared that he might tip over. ‘If I ever did, it was only because the memories hurt too much.’ For so many years James had longed to see Silver again, and now that he is standing next to him for some reason he can’t bear to look at him. He is scared to see Silver as much as he is scared for Silver to see him.

‘How about you?’ James asks. ‘Did you want to forget me?’

‘I just told you I loved you, you idiot’ Silver laughs. ‘Do you really think I would want that?’

The world is a crazy place. Lawless, meaningless, illogical, startling and unpredictable. James wonders why it is always too late. Why there was never a good moment to say these things to each other. Why it was always too hard to be honest and easier to lie. And why everything seems so clear looking back. It seems they are doomed to only understand afterwards, after everything has ended. That is the cruelty of their lives. To only see afterwards what they were supposed to do. To see what could have been, but never was.

‘And what now?’, James asks with trembling voice. ‘What of your feelings now?’

Silver gives no answer, so James has no other choice than to look at him, finally, and meet those bright blue eyes. But Silver’s gaze slides down to James’ mouth – _oh_ , James thinks – and Silver kisses him, clearing his mind of any thoughts he might have had left.

It takes a moment for James to respond to what is happening. Silver is already starting to pull away, but James brings him back by lifting his hands and cupping Silver’s face. Silver balls his hand into James’ shirt, holding on to him tightly.

Just as suddenly as it started, Silver breaks away. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just keep taking from you and I don’t know how to stop it’ he says, his voice breaking on a sob.

‘It’s alright. It’s alright. Just let me give this to you. Just let me.’

‘Can you please stop being so forgiving for a moment and just be fucking angry with me?’

‘Why, because that is something you know how to deal with?’ _And this isn’t?,_ James thinks. _Anger is easier for you to handle than kindness?_

‘No, because it’s getting a bit unbelievable by now. And I don’t know if that means you are a bloody fool or if it is a sign of indifference.’

Silver looks at him, half angry and half desperate, looking so small in this house, in this kitchen, and James thinks, _he must have been so young back then, when I led him into the war._ A fierce sense of protectiveness rises in him. He wants to hold Silver close and shield him from the world. He wants to go after the people who made him like this, who hurt him so deeply – who made him unable to trust anyone, who made him hate himself so intensely – whatever they did to him, Flint will find them and make them pay for it. 

‘Don’t be mistaken’, James says with a sharp tone in his voice. ‘I have been angry with you for many years. I resented you for what you did. But not anymore. Maybe it’s because I’m old, maybe because I’m a fool, but I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired of being angry.’

He tucks a lock of hair behind Silver’s ear, feels the warmth radiating off him. ‘Perhaps’, James says, tracing his thumb over the shell of his ear, **‘** love is not just about giving, but also about learning to receive. To understand that you are worthy of good things. To trust that this is real, and genuine.’

‘Must I remind you that _trust_ is exactly the thing we were never able to master’, Silver snorts; but James easily sees through his defensiveness. He brushes his fingers through Silver’s curls and Silver’s eyelashes flutter, his grasp on James’ shirt tightens.

‘I understand it. You are afraid of so many things. Of feeling something so deep, of letting someone see you like this. Let me give this to you, this kindness, and allow yourself to receive it and indulge in it.’ James grins. ‘Besides, a kiss is by far the best thing that John Silver has ever stolen from me.’

‘I’ll take that as an invitation’, Silver breathes, and kisses him again.

Outside the kitchen window, Thomas and Madi high-five each other.

 

**Author's Note:**

> “hoisted himself into a tub in expectation of a flood that isn’t coming” is a reference to the Miller’s tale from the Canterbury Tales, written in the late 14th century. John, a carpenter, believes that a great flood is coming and climbs into a tub hanging from the ceiling, so that when the water rises he can cut the rope and float away. But there is no flood coming; John’s wife and her lover made up the story so that they could spent the night together while John sleeps in his tub.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come find me on tumblr - I'm @undiscovereduniverse!


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